


Time to Get Creative

by ophidianpoet



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: Other, Padlock, Tony and Paige?, what else should I call them?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophidianpoet/pseuds/ophidianpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I really wanted to explore these characters a little bit. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to Get Creative

_Oh_ , they are cruel, insufferable Time and irrepressible Creation. 

"My, what a pair we are, my darling," said the Clock.

"What a pair indeed," said the Notepad, and they danced hand-in-hand down the hall.

"But if I were to cut you, would you bleed?" the Clock asks, halting their dance for a moment and bowing the Notepad into an elegant dip. Notepad's pale rainbow of hair reached up in a few searching tendrils, prodding at Clock's face and neck.

"Yes, enough ink to fill a bath. Sweet Clock, do calm your wrath. Were we not 'till a moment ago just dancing?" Notepad asked, setting both xer heeled shoes on the floor and pulling Clock into a tango hold. Clock let themself be led step-by-step to the stairs where Manny, Harry and Robin were trying to look inconspicuous.

Sitting innocently on the bottom step was a basket of fruit and flowers. Clock didn't know who it was for, and neither did Notepad, but xe left xir dance partner and began to play with the flowers, plucking the petals with xir thin black fingers and using them to make happy faces on the fruits.

Clock folded their arms and waited, not wanting to look too put-out at suddenly being ignored. They glanced over to the three roommates and waved. The three flinched at Clock's attention, but Harry had enough nerve to actually speak.

"You two all right?" the deadlocked young man asked cagily, and Clock nodded, opening their mouth to assure Harry there was nothing to be nervous about, when a few sad, splattery noises from the staircase made them turn. 

Clock must have been standing too closely; the flowers had all withered into dry shreds of nothing and the fruits had rotted into soft little lumps Notepad had begun smearing into the floor, crudely drawing a picture of a house with the rancid fruit pulp. Xir hands were coated in the sticky gunk, and Clock could see they had been wiped a few times already on xir dress.

"A short while ago, you mentioned a bath. Dear Notepad, I think you were on the right path. Let's get you cleaned up-" Clock bent to offer xir a hand, as xe was crouched on the floor, but Notepad sprang up, folding xir arms.

"I don't want a bath, I don't need to be clean." xe sniffed, nose in the air.

"You recalcitrant paper sheaf, don't make a scene." Clock admonished, scooping Notepad up in their arms. Xe was so light, Clock was sure that if they were to toss xir up in a light breeze, xe would float away on the wind like a kite.

Notepad folded xir arms, ink-black lips pressed into a pout.

"I hate baths, Clock, do put me down." xe mewled, futilely kicking xir delicate little feet. 

"Don't fuss, dearest, don't pout or frown. Now let's see you scrub 'till the water's brown." Clock replied, setting xir down in the washroom and stripping the soiled dress from xir dripping, black body. Clock drew the bath for Notepad, and xe stuck xir tongue out at them before clambering inside. Now that they had Notepad immersed in water and soap, Clock surveyed the ink spots xe had left on the floor with disgust.

"Must you always drip ink everywhere?"

"It isn't your problem, so why should you care?"

Clock turned on their heel and left with a "hmph". They came back later to find a content Notepad soaking happily in a tub of sludgy blackness.

"Ah, there you are, Clock. The water's just fine. Why don't you join me? We'll have a nice time!" Notepad offered, scrunching xemself up to make room in the tub.

Clock looked down at the pristine white of their gloves, the sparkling stars on their coat, and back to the grinning Notepad, whose hair had somehow failed to become as ink-sodden as one would expect.

"...I think not." Clock said haughtily, looking down their nose at the potential wretched mess.

Notepad shrugged, climbing out of the bath completely dry, and accepting the freshly-laundered dress Clock handed xir. Dressed, Notepad fell into Clock's arms with a sigh, collapsing like a puppet who'd just lost their strings and allowing Clock to zip the dress up.

Clock leads xir down the stairs and out into the garden, not looking too hard at the apples turning away in fright, and Notepad skips over to sit on a swing, xir pale face and bright hair glowing in the afternoon light. Clock stands guard while Notepad swings gleefully for a few minutes, before leaping off at the apex of the swing's arc, letting Clock catch xir with a shared, hungry grin.

Oh, they _are_ cruel, and the Clock tells the Notepad xe is beautiful while Clock's hands rot xir dress and Notepad s m i l e s.


End file.
